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A man in New Castle, Indiana recently called 911 nine times in a 90-minute span trying to order a cheeseburger. Why? Obviously, it was an emergency.

Maybe the only person safe enough to deliver a cheeseburger was a paramedic also carrying a defibrillator. Maybe a gun-toting cop was needed to say to all potential cheeseburger thieves, “Step away from the cheeseburger.” Or maybe a fireman was needed to cook a cheeseburger on the grill without burning down the house. There are many types of cheeseburger emergencies.

It turned out the local police department thought otherwise, but were worried the caller might be hungry. The man helped them out by giving them his name, which led them to visit. By now, you are thinking this is going to be a heartwarming story with a happy ending. Aren’t you? Admit it, you think the cops brought the man a cheeseburger because they understood the medical concept of a cheeseburger emergency.

Wouldn’t it be great if the world worked that way.

But this is not that cheeseburger nirvana world that you dream of. This is the real world where cops look up the records of people who call 911 nine times asking for a cheeseburger. So if you are going to call 911 nine times asking for cheeseburger, it is probably better not to have a warrant out for your arrest. The caller in this story had a long arrest record and a warrant out for missing a previous court date. When the cops showed up, they arrested him and put him in the county jail.

And yet he, like those who have practiced civil disobedience before him, may yet be remembered as the visionary who first understood that America can become a place where all businesses, big and small, must serve cheeseburgers. Everyone. Even ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks. It’s so true. The need for a cheeseburgers can be an emergency.

Is it a crime to have a cheeseburger emergency? Is that the kind of America that we want to live in?

It’s up to everyone to change this. It’s up to me, and you. I’ve got a cheeseburger right up above for you. Your job should serve cheeseburgers too.

Teachers should serve cheeseburgers. Car salesmen should serve cheeseburgers. Even ditch diggers. You should be able to walk by any random ditch being dug and get a cheeseburger on demand. Asking nine times is just too much.

But asking an emergency operator nine times for a cheeseburger might land a person in jail in some places, especially if you have a warrant out for your arrest. And that’s when the cruel and unusual punishment of this Kafka-esque story really begins. Our trailblazing hero was treated like some kind of criminal with a long arrest record, not someone facing an actual cheeseburger emergency.

I was looking through my favorite pharmaceutical company’s recent catalog trying to decide whether I would look better on a hair-growth drug or a weight-loss supplement when I realized I am depressed that I am not depressed.

Then I didn’t think about it for a little while, which made me at least hopeful that I have Adult ADD.

I think something bothers me. Or more accurately – I think, therefore something bothers me. It seems that if there is nothing wrong with you in modern America, something is wrong with you. What is wrong with you? That is the question.

Is it nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of real disease or to succumb to the guilty pressure of jingly advertising? The people selling the snake oil do not care. They just want you to buy their pharmaceutical cure. But first, you need assurance that something bothers you.

That’s why I have been taking prescription-strength cheeseburgers for my high cholesterol. They are safer on my heart than what you can get off the street. And yes, if I am hungry and I see a cheeseburger laying in a puddle of oil and mud, I always eat it. Don’t you?

So I was looking at my yellow toenails and scratching my elbows thinking of all this when in walked my special lady. She smiled at me like she wanted up to four hours of fun right now.

But I hadn’t taken my cheeseburger.

Plus, I was having problems sleeping. For the first time in my adult life, I felt like I belonged. I needed someone to talk to so I joined a group – Cheeseburgers Anonymous.

The most American of all meals is the cheeseburger. Despite our actual dead turkey holiday, the ballpark obsession with the hot dog, and a deep communal love for apple pie, it is the cheeseburger that unites us as a nation.

From sea to shining sea, through the prairies, in the mountains, and by the rivers – even if there is not a fast food joint for miles – we are a cheeseburger nation. We cook them ourselves, or the local diner does. All real Americans love cheeseburgers somehow or other. The right to a free cheeseburger is an implicit part of the American Constitution.

You may think that vegetarians and vegans are not part of cheeseburger nation, but surely they love a cheeseburger lover. “I may not love cheeseburgers, but I love someone who does.” In this way, the cheeseburger unites us all.

Face it, most of us love cheeseburgers. Even crappy fast-food cheeseburgers hit the spot at the right moment. Cheeseburgers, in fact, are spot-hitters in ways that few things in life can hit any spot.

Cheeseburgers are the best things, and the best things in life are free, so free cheeseburgers are the best things in life. I am asking my readers, isn’t it true? Once, Bobby Kennedy noted that some looked at things the way they were and asked why, but he looked at things that never were and asked why not. In that vein, for those who ask why free cheeseburgers, I ask why not free cheeseburgers?